A fire coursing through these veins
Melts every trace of ice away.

Why are the words, always so hard to say?
I can say them to myself, each and every day,
but not when it's time, to say it to you.;
I really wish that you just knew.

I'm afraid that you've whispered into my veins,
that you've spoken into my skin.
And if life has its way and you go away,
I'll be left with this burning within.

My hands are yours now,
you belong in my arms,
and my body is broken into
what stays with me,
as it has to be,
and, darling, what misses you.